NEW ORDER have to be blinding, have to be gorgeous and maverick and 
wise, if we're to leave with any sense of napalm in our hearts, honey 
in our orifices, splendour on our teeth. Well, the light show takes 
care of that. We're sold. The light show is immense and suddenly the 
field is transformed, everything I was complaining about is thrown into 
another sensual dimension. Now we are on the set of a sci-fi movie, and 
I assure you that it's more stimulating than a rock festival. I guess 
Pink Floyd could've pulled the same stunt but anyway thank Christ it 
was New Order because that means we're allowed to gasp and go "oooh" 
and crane our necks, at least when no one's sitting on them. Now there
is an atmosphere. 
  Albrecht takes a calculated risk in slagging off, "all you stupid 
Mission fans" and makes a shrewd observation in saying, "this is the
only festival I've ever played at where the band is more out of it than
the audience". But of course it doesn't show. The Mancunian dance-away-
the-heartache troopers have led us to expect, to want, the clash of
rigid backbeat and looser-than-loose voice and bass, and if Albrecht or
Hook care to muck around a bit on a verse or chorus we perceive it as a
piece of history. 
  I've never known them to be this danceable. "Every Second Counts" is 
the sole respite halfway through. Otherwise it's pure cut-a-rug-or-die
stuff. Again, we're allowed to like this because we know New Order are 
so hip and so hip to misery. So, no worries - the field becomes a mass
of strutting bodies. This is a good thing. Better a field full of 
narcissists than a field full of laid-back hippies "relating" to 
"Freebird" (or The Cure). Nothing too sickeningly, communally 
sentimental, just a wicked bop. It ends on high notes - "Temptation",
"Fine Time", "Blue Monday" (which is enjoyable, for once), the ever-
ascendant "Perfect Kiss"...
  New Order are sublime. They had to be to save the day. They were. 
They always are. It's the law. Maybe it helped that we knew the 
marathon was ending (Oh, they're not, by the way... "We're New Order 
and we're not breaking up," Bernard announces sulkily on entering). But
you had to dance. They were fantastic about it. All the hits. It was 
great. It gave focus to the whole damp debacle.
  The ordeal is over. Ha, some poor bastard has to stand here tomorrow
and he gets The Pogues. Life starts to feel better again. I am filled
with the satisfaction of a hard job well done, an honest day's toil. 
With indeed a flush of goodwill towards all mankind, particularly this
weird biker chick who is surely going to lead me to shelter, warmth,
redemption and towels.
  "Now", she says, "I left the car somewhere..."    

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